


Post Date Strike

by amanda_jolene



Category: My Mad Fat Diary
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 10:06:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1978788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amanda_jolene/pseuds/amanda_jolene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don't take dating advice from Chop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Post Date Strike

He was a huge fucking dork. 

He had people fooled into thinking he’s a cool, moody sort of lad who rolls his own smokes and had fantastic taste in music and was so hot he could kiss a dry river wet again. He almost had Rae believing it (he thinks but then he wasn’t sure. He did make that weird noise in the back of his throat when he told her she was sound and nearly died on the spot) but that was all blown to hell after tonight. 

The love letter is spread across his desk but he can’t think of anything to write except _sorry for grabbing the orange ball, flexing my fucking arm and pointing at the ball. I don’t know what the fuck that was about._

Oh, God. What the fuck was that about? What in his mind made him think, yeah, that’s a solid idea right there. 

How about _sorry for my shit explanation of how to bowl? Just to the right or left… just try to hit them? Why didn’t he just say throw the fucking ball down that straight lane but do it slowly so I can check your arse out_ (which is what he did anyway) and then he stared like some love struck Romeo when she got a strike. 

He could have redeemed himself with the casual flirting (he was good at that and the ‘That’s how it’s going to be’ comment was gold) but then he done something weird (and fluttery) against her hand and smiled like a moron. 

He gathers the letter and puts in back in the underwear drawer with the mix tape before he face-plants into his pillow and pulls the covers over his head to hide his shame from his posters. 

“How’d the date go then?” Chop asks at the pub the next day. 

“Good.” 

“Come on now. Details.” 

“We went bowling. It was fine.” 

“I’m your best mate and ya know that’s true, so come on. Tell Chopper all about it.” 

“I made an ass of myself.” 

“What, ya grab her tit?”

“Chop, I’m being serious!”

“So am I!”

“I didn’t grab her tit!”

“Then why the belly aching?” 

He tells Chop the gory details and Chop takes the piss out of him (“How much you charge for bowling lessons?”) but sobers up when he realizes Finn is seriously losing his shit over the date.

“It doesn’t sound that bad, honestly. She’s crazy about ya! Probably thinks ya being a dork is cute, but give it a few days before ya call her and she’ll have forgotten all about it.”

He thinks about telling Chop he wrote ‘I love you’ on her back but he can’t handle any more embarrassment.

Waiting this out sounded like a good plan until his heart starts singing love songs to his brain about her eyes and her laugh and how witty she is and-

There’s ringing in his ear. He’s standing in the kitchen, phone pressed to his ear and he’s not sure how he got here. Who the fuck was he calling?

“Hello?”

Sweet, angelic voice- his Rae. He sways a little on the spot and his heart is in overdrive with its love song before his brain responds with OH SHIT and he slams the receiver down.   
At least she’s at home. Where else would she be? With Archie. That little fucker better not-

“Hello?”

“Archer. Care for a drink?” 

Solves that.

Chop rings him the next day. “Forget my plan, mate. Call Rae.”

“What? You said-“

“Forget it, lad. Iz said she thinks ya don’t like her.”

“But I-“ wrote I love you on her back why would she think- “had a great time with her.” 

“Then call her and tell her that.”

“Alright. Thanks.” 

“Of course. Listen, ya don’t like… ever think you’re an animal do ya? Like, I don’t know… an emu?”

“What?” 

“Nothing.”

It takes 45 minutes and 2 glasses of water (and his heart singing love songs about her hair) to call her. He’s sweating and his leg feels wonky. 

“Hello?” 

“Rae?”

“Finn?”

There’s a pause. “Sorry I took so long to call.” 

“It’s ok.”

“It’s not and I won’t wait next time, I promise.” 

(Four hours later, Finn’s dad finds him sprawled on the floor, still on the phone and leaves him alone because he remembers what it was like to a love struck fool)


End file.
